One Step At A Time
by intersects
Summary: Post-Eagle Two. "You’re avoiding my gaze, you’re not telling the truth. That’s pretty damn upset, if you ask me." Sam and Jules need to talk about something.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Flashpoint._  
**Pairing/Character: **Jules, Sam

C. 2008/disparate

**One Step At A Time**_  
_

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To say that she was shocked was an understatement. Not that she could say anything at the moment. The kiss started off sweet and slow and unexpected, but now their tongues playing catch and release with each other, she was gasping for air but she didn't exactly care because it was just the kind of reprieve she needed after the horrible day she had at work; she was hesitant at first but now, all she wanted was him as her hand gripped his, tightly.

"Sam." A gasp escaped her lips without her permission.

"Stop." She said, as she pulled away and cast a very reluctant gaze at him. He looked surprised as he let his hand drop to his side, and stared at her.

"We're standing in the middle of the street here. Sarge is probably getting the guys to form a search and rescue team for you right now so that you can take the truck back."

"Are you still going to fight me on driving you back home?" he asked, his tone hopeful. She closed her eyes for a second longer before looking straight at him again.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am," she said, and she saw his face fall. "I still need a moment alone." _Now more so than ever_, she thought. "I really want to just walk home – by myself," she quickly added when he started to speak again, not wanting to test whether his words had enough persuasive power to get her to think otherwise.

"Come _on_, Jules." That was all he settled for.

She took a deep breath.

"Why don't you come by my house later? Take the truck back to HQ first."

He considered the suggestion, and nodded. When she gave him one last lingering look and turned on her heels to continue walking away, he stood rooted to the spot, watching as she disappeared into the distance.

* * *

It took him 38 minutes to get from the headquarters to her house. She knew that because she timed it, from the moment he sent her a text message that he was leaving on his _bike_ (she still couldn't get over the fact that he sold his car) to the moment she heard those knocks on her door. She'd already changed into a pair of comfortable, loose pants and a tank top, and her hair was tied back into a ponytail like she usually did.

She stalled for time, walking slowly from one end of the house to the door. When she finally reached for the knob and twisted the door open, Sam already had one hand on his hip; an impatient pose if there were any.

"Can I come in now?" he asked her.

She nodded yes, and scooted sideways to allow him space to get in.

"I wasn't sure if you're hungry, but I ordered pizza," Jules started, closing the door behind her and leading them both to the living room.

"Starving," he flashed her his pearly whites. She had to do something with her hands, so she started picking up the magazines on the table and started stacking them up and putting them under the table, one by one. He let the smile fade.

"Jules."

"What?"

"Are you upset?"

"No… I'm not," she told him. It wasn't the most convincing fib of all time.

"Because of work or because of what happened just now?"

"I just said I wasn't upset." _Stack, stack, place them neatly underneath. Rinse, lather, repeat._

"You're avoiding my gaze, you're not telling the truth. That's pretty damn upset, if you ask me."

She finally stopped what she was doing and sat herself on the couch, next to him. It wasn't in Jules' nature to escape, but she felt the incessant need to just go away, to give her another few minutes to collect her thoughts to string together something coherent and intelligent.

"I just don't want to screw things up. At work, with the team… With you, our friendship."

"We won't. I promise." She used to think his confidence pushed over to the side of cocky and she didn't used to like it, but tonight it seemed to work in his favour.

"Here're our options. We pretend the kiss didn't happen –"

"Not gonna happen," he said immediately. "I waited too damn long for that."

In spite of herself, she smiled.

"Or. We could give this a try."

"Give what a try?"

She looked at him in the eye for a moment before closing the gap between the both of them as she met her mouth to his, giving him a lingering kiss as she pulled away. He'd have none of that, however, as his hand found itself against the back of her neck, and he pushed her closer still and cashed in on the kiss, almost like his life depended on it. She closed her eyes and faded into the moment, a guttural moan rumbled deep in her throat and she threw all caution to the wind, her hands full out exploring the shape of his body and she could feel him doing the same to her curves. Tugging at his shirt, she even managed to get it half way up his arms when the doorbell rang.

"Shit. That's the pizza," she said, jumping away slightly and shaking her head as she breathed heavily.

"So? Just ignore it. Let him think no one's home," Sam told her, whispering and tracing his finger on her shoulder blade. She tried hard not to shiver and it took all of her to take a deep breath and stand up.

"You can pretend not to be hungry, but I'm not going to do that."

"Seriously, Jules?" He asked her; an incredulous look etched on his face as she pulled his shirt back down while walking past him to the door, grabbing her wallet from the table and turned her head to look at him, trying to hide a smile but failing quite spectacularly. After paying for the pizza and sending the pizza delivery boy away, she set the pizza on her table.

"That better be some amazing pizza," he growled. She laughed, and the strangest thought crossed his mind: Her laugh sounded like sunshine on a rainy day.

"I can't work on an empty stomach, you know that."

"Yeah, well. Given the alternative, I can definitely see why you chose the pizza," he said, sarcastically. She shook her head and offered him a slice, and he declined, so she shrugged and took a bite out of it.

"Yum," she intoned, a teasing lilt in her voice as she looked straight directly at him and he chuckled, his eyes boring into her. She squirmed uncomfortably.

"What?"

"You're pretty damn incredible, you know," he told her, shrugging and shifting to sit nearer to her. It wasn't hard to miss the fear flashing across her eyes.

"Yeah, well. Born this way, can't help it," she tried to joke, attempting to hit jocularity in its bullseye and failing pretty miserably. Sam pursed his lips together and took her free hand into his, and she resisted the urge to draw it back swiftly, opting to hear what he had to say.

What he had to say turned out to be not a lot, not when he found his lips meeting hers again and she had to throw her half-eaten slice of pizza back in the box as if that was the most important thing in the world; not getting her floor oily and greasy. And even though he could feel her oily fingers against his skin, he still noted one thing.

Her lips felt softer than petals.

"We need to talk about this," he heard her murmur, a small laugh underlining the sentiment.

"I know."

His own words dissolved into a laugh as well. She leaned across to grab two pieces of Kleenex; one to wipe her hand and the other to him, quirking her mouth into a tight smile.

"I think we should keep this to ourselves for a while. See what happens. If it doesn't work out, then nothing's changed at work."

It gnawed at him a little that she was already thinking of a contingency plan for work, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Okay. We'll take it one step at a time."

"Sounds like a good enough plan for me."


End file.
